


A Magician’s Mayday

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Male Character, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Gay Male Character, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Merritt McKinney saves the day, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: Merritt is the protector of the Horsemen, looking out for the others at every turn. Daniel is the last person to ever ask for help until he finds himself in a predicament that only Merritt can unravel. It's only during one late night distress call that they realize just how much they need each other. Merritt/Daniel
Relationships: J. Daniel Atlas/Merritt McKinney
Kudos: 96





	A Magician’s Mayday

The scene is exactly as Merritt predicts on this Saturday night. 

The mentalist reclines on the sofa, a David Foster Wallace novel stretched between his steady hands, and sips at a barely touched glass of scotch. He’s never been much of a drinker, but the liquor goes well with a good book and a quiet night in. The lamp emits a gentle yellow glow from the end table and gives the room a feeling of comfort and security. Something that Merritt savors more than he cares to admit. 

Henley and Jack have long since departed for the night. Henley has found somewhere else to sleep and, as instructed, has already texted Merritt the man’s address, phone number, and first and last name. Jack has decided to crash at his brother’s place in Brooklyn. He’ll be back by lunch the next day. Merritt stashes these details in the back of his mind along with a mental alarm clock that tells him at what point he should start worrying about his fellow horsemen. 

He never thinks the one who might need his services the most, the one he should have been watching over from the start, will be the showman himself. 

The insistent buzzing of the cell phone interrupts David Foster Wallace mid-sentence. Merritt stretches with a heavy sigh and places the book face down on his lap. He snatches the phone from its place on the coffee table and stares down at the screen with suspicion. On the third buzz he hits the green button and places the phone to his ear with a roll of his eyes.

“Danny, if this is a booty call the answer is yes, but you’re buying breakfast in the AM. I’m not talking bagels either, pancakes-the unlimited kind.” 

There is a staticky pause followed by a barely audible whisper.

“Merritt, I, uh. Something’s wrong. Can…can you come get me?” 

The alarm goes off in Merritt’s head. Immediately he’s sitting straight up and adjusting the phone to speak clearly into its mouthpiece. He instinctively makes his voice soft and calm as he removes himself from the blanket’s tight embrace.

“You got it, kid. Where are ya? What’s going on?” 

“Um…at a…at a bar. In the bathroom. I just had a coke, I swear, and uh, Merritt I think someone drugged me.” 

Merritt notes the way Daniel’s word’s blend together in a drunken slur, except Daniel doesn’t drink. Ever. He stands, passes through the room in a few large strides, and gathers his shoes from the far corner. His one free hand works quickly to unlace them. 

“Okay, Danny. Sit tight. Do not fall asleep. I’m on my way. Which bar?” 

There is silence and then a bout of choking which turns into retching. Merritt strings his laces together in a rush while cradling the phone against his shoulder. The choking ends within a minute and then comes nothing. Merritt’s heart races with a new kind of worry.

“Daniel, wake up! Talk to me. Tell me about the bar. Do you remember the name?” 

Finally, Daniel returns with a new hoarseness to his voice. He speaks with pained hesitation and Merritt recognizes the almost childish reluctance behind his response, as if the kid believes it will bring him the worst kind of punishment. 

“Rainbow.” 

Merritt’s stomach sinks to his feet. He’s had his own share of experiences at Rainbow as a young and searching bisexual man. The bar itself is fine, if not a bit too cliché, but predators lurk everywhere, and they love to target the young new-to-the-scene men who don’t know any better. 

Hell of a way for the kid to come out of the closet. 

Finishing the last knot, he swallows his concern for now and makes his voice steady and lighthearted for Daniel’s sake.

“Well alright, I’ve been there a few times. Know the place well. They got those private bathrooms, right? The ones that lock from the inside?” 

It’s a loaded and hopeful question. 

“Uh, yea.” Daniel swallows audibly and speaks quietly. “I locked the door, but he knows where I am, and I…I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake. Fuck, the room is spinning.”

Daniel’s voice cracks with that last admission. This single emotional giveaway from the usually stone-faced kid causes Merritt’s pulse to pound. He shrugs on his jacket and bursts out of the apartment. He takes the stairwell instead of the elevator and descends two steps at a time until he reaches the lobby and then the exit. 

“Yea, roofies will do that. Don’t you worry, though. It’ll pass. You’re gonna be just fine.” Merritt searches the dark street for an available cab, throwing his hand up at every passing car. “I’ll be there real soon, kid. Don’t hang up the phone and don’t open that door for anybody until I get there, alright?”

Daniel mumbles something close to an affirmation. Merritt wants to reach through the phone and shake the showman awake as yet another car passes him by. 

“Daniel, I need words. Real words.” 

The phone crackles with the kid’s sharp inhale, followed by his signature edgy retort. 

“Yea…yes. Okay. I heard you.” 

Merritt releases his own breath in a relieved scoff. 

“There we go. That’s more like it.” A canary yellow car appears beneath the streetlights. It flashes its lights at Merritt’s wave, and he rushes to the curb. “Now, tell me about this jackass who couldn’t resist your charming ways.” 

Merritt pops open the back door of the cab and climbs inside, directing the driver at once. There is a thump on the other end of the line, but Daniel’s slurred but quick response soothes Merritt’s nerves for the moment. 

“I’m not in the mood to swap bad date stories with you, Merritt.” 

Merritt hears the fear behind the statement, the words thick with restrained emotion. He has to keep their trademark banter going, though. At the very least it keeps the kid talking, keeps him awake and breathing until Merritt can get him in his sights and assess the situation.

“Oh, so this was a date? How fancy. Let me guess, an older worldly gentleman, a chickenhawk if you will, who wears an ascot and doesn’t take no for an answer. Tell me, does he own a boat?”

Daniel sighs weakly. “If you think I’m attracted to boat people, then you’re a terrible mentalist.” 

“Oh, so you’re attracted to chickenhawks, then?” This earns an actual snort. “Hey, no shame. I prefer twinks myself, or a nice otter.” 

They stop behind a line of honking angry traffic extending for blocks. Merritt holds the phone away from the ear briefly and instructs the cabby, in the nicest way possible, to get the fuck around the mess quickly. When he puts the phone back, Daniel is speaking.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting on a disgusting bathroom floor talking about gay stereotypes with Merritt McKinney. Did I die? Is this hell?” 

Merritt finds himself smiling. The cabby straddles three lanes and drives around the fender bender that’s created this entire cacophony. He takes a hard right onto the next one way street, bringing them closer to their destination. 

To Daniel. 

“Well if it is, then I’m down there with ya. Hey, at least we have obnoxious club beats and shirtless men to keep us company, right?”

Daniel groans. Merritt watches the city race past the cab’s window and pictures that adorable smirk reserved mostly for him and his smartass antics. It calms his fears, for the moment, and he relaxes his grip on the phone.

The phone makes shifting noises. Daniel’s shoes squeak. Then he speaks defensively into the receiver. 

“I don’t do this all the time, you know. I just…I just wanted to try it. I’ve hardly dated, or even wanted to because I hate most people. It just gets really fucking lonely sometimes and at least here, here I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.” 

Merritt nods into the phone as the cab cruises down 9th street through Hell’s Kitchen. They’re only minutes away now and he frantically searches the thumping rows of bars for the massive neon rainbow sign. 

“Well you don’t have to pretend with me, Daniel, and you’re not alone.” Merritt pauses, considering his words carefully. “It’s hard out there, when you’re first figuring it all out. You know I was about your age when I met my own chickenhawk. Stan had one of those mustaches that were all the rage in the 80s and a real nice Caddy. I figured if I was going to be with a man, I should aim high. So, we had ourselves a few drinks and then went up to his hotel room. Middle of it all, I changed my mind. He didn’t so much agree. So, I hypnotized him, left him there thinking he was chained to the bed till the cops came.” 

“Wow, that’s…I didn’t know you were such a tough guy, Merritt. Is it weird that you’re kind of turning me on?” 

Merritt hears the smirk in the singsong cadence of the words. He smiles to himself, hearing the real proposition behind their longstanding pattern of jokes.

“How about we have that conversation after those drugs wear off, huh?”

A malicious pounding startles Merritt through the phone. It’s followed by a shuffling and a hard slam. Daniel breathes heavily and shakily. Merritt tightens his grip on the phone again. There is another voice, not quite clear enough to come through the receiver. It’s deep and authoritative and the tone triggers every protective instinct in Merritt’s body. 

“I’m fine.” The words are shaky and slurred. “I’ll be out in a…in a minute.”

Merritt grips the leather seat with white knuckles and asks the dreaded question. 

“Danny? You okay?” 

The silence stretches, interrupted only by Daniel’s gagging. Merritt slams his hand against the back of the passenger seat, grabbing the cabby’s attention long enough to make his point. Then he mouths two words with emphatic dread. 

Drive. Faster. 

“Daniel, come on. Answer me.”

Then, a strained acknowledgment.

“Oh yea, never been better. I think I just threw up my entire stomach. At least ‘chickenhawk’ can’t pick a lock.” A pause and then something more concerning. “If I fall asleep, will I forget this entire conversation? I hope not. Thank you for picking up the phone, Mer.”

Each word sounds pained, and his breathing is ragged. Merritt stares down the street, searching for the trademark rainbow sign. They should be there any moment and every second means more agony for Daniel, who did nothing to earn such cruelty and maliciousness.

“Just don’t lie down, okay? Lean your head against something if you have to, but don’t close your eyes. I’m almost there and then we’ll get you feeling a lot better, okay?” 

Merritt waits for Daniel’s affirmative moan. Then, words spill from his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep this kid awake and attentive before it’s too late. 

“You know I’ll always pick up the phone for you, right Danny? Always. I do owe you an apology, though. As the elder gay man in the house, I should have been more available to you. I think I didn’t want to look too closely at you because if I did, then this flirtation that you and I have going might make a little too much sense and, well, that typically doesn’t work out for me.” Daniel breathes. “Not that this has to be anything you don’t want it to be, I just, well from now on I’m going to watch you so closely that it’ll annoy the hell out of you. That’s a promise, kid.” 

Silence ensues. Merritt’s entire body tightens with mounting concern.

“Daniel, talk to me.” Silence. “Daniel!” 

Then there is a deafening clatter and all the voices, none of which belong to Daniel, sound as if they’re coming through a long barren tunnel. 

“…open the fucking door…”

“…hey what’s going on man…”

“…my boyfriend is drunk. I need someone to open this door so I can get him home...”

Then, a crash and, finally, a dial tone. 

The cab pulls up outside of the small black club front with the rainbow awning and strobe lights moving in revolutions from inside. Merritt tosses a twenty to the driver and jumps out. He doesn’t even bother hypnotizing the bouncer. Instead he pushes his way through the line and allows the heavy-set man to grip him by the jacket. Then, face to face with Goliath, he spills his truth. 

“Whoa, listen to me. My friend is in there with a rapist. He’s been drugged. I need to get to him, now.” 

Goliath’s steel face softens into a texture closer to gelatin and he releases his grip. The mammoth of a man leads Merritt inside and then the race is on. The mentalist pushes past shirtless men and slides straight through the dance floor, dodging grinding bodies, until he makes it to the back of the club. There he sees the bathroom door swinging and chickenhawk carrying Daniel in his gargantuan arms. 

Merritt wastes no time, striding right up to the son-of-a-bitch and aiming his right hook at the smug razer-burned face. His knuckles throb upon impact, but it’s enough to startle the beast into releasing Daniel. Merritt grips the kid beneath his arms right before he falls and drags him helplessly to an empty corner of the bar. 

Goliath appears and grips chickenhawk by the neck, throwing him down onto an empty stool and standing over him like a human barricade. He glances back at Merritt, who only tears his eyes from Daniel’s pained face to give a single directive.

“Call 911 now.” Merritt cradles Daniel’s head in his lap and feels the slow and steady pulse beneath his finger. “It’s okay, kid. I’m here now. I got ya. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything is white in this Emergency Room- the paint, the sheets, the floor tiles. It’s quiet minus the heartrate monitors that throw steady beats across the vast open floorplan. Now early morning, most of the city’s disorderlies have been sent to their respective corners. A few nurses linger, occasionally dropping in to change an IV or hit a button on a machine. The metal chair squeaks with each minor movement and the jarring scent of antiseptic lingers. 

This scene is nothing like Merritt could have predicted just hours earlier. 

It is only the mentalist and his showman occupying a small curtained-off area in the far corner of the hospital. Daniel reclines in a bed and wears a cloth gown with a little blue-dotted pattern. His hair sticks up at all angles from his dramatic entrance back into the land of the living and his skin tone matches the sheet beneath him. He’s too weak to sit up just yet, but too stubborn to sit still. 

Those round blue eyes, the ones Merritt can’t stop watching, shine brighter thanks to the Rohypnol that has only recently cleared his system. 

Merritt hangs on the bedrail and laughs mightily at Daniels’ throwaway comment about sea otters. His older fingers crawl over Daniels’ younger ones and trace circles on the back of his hand as he speaks his mind in a barely-there whisper. 

“You could’ve told me, you know. I may not be Harvey Milk, but I know my way around Boy’s Town. If you needed a friend…or something else…well believe it or not I’m good for more than just occasional flirting.”

“Oh, that…that sounds like a proposition.” Daniel responds cheekily, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Wait, are you insinuating that I’m a twink?” 

The playfulness in those eyes show that the kid couldn’t care less about this label. Merritt bites. 

“Well, if the skinny jeans fit.” Daniel snorts. Merritt leans in further and whispers. “You’re still buying the pancakes, though, sleeping beauty.” 

The showman rolls his eyes and rolls to his side to face the mentalist, entwining their fingers along the way.

“Wow, that’s so incredibly romantic. You know, I’m suddenly feeling very sleepy. Have you seen Prince Phillip around anywhere? That red cape and pointy hat just… really wake me up.” 

The share a mutual smirk. Daniel’s hand feels warm in his palm, safe, and the kid’s lively pulse encourages Merritt to take a chance. He leans in just a little bit closer, licking his lips in anticipation. Daniel doesn’t back down, putting them in a most intimate position. 

“Yea, well I can think of one way to wake you up. If you’re feeling up to it.” 

“Oh, really?” Daniel picks at the blanket with his free hand, pursing his own lips in a sudden and adorable bout of shyness. “Well, we clearly have no choice. I mean, it’s basically CPR, right? Who knows how long I can go on without kissing you?” 

Then those eyebrows shoot up in a call for assistance that Merritt has no trouble answering.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or the characters within this story. I also don’t own David Foster Wallace, obviously. 
> 
> Author’s Note: I’ve got another chapter of A Predicament Escape nearly finished, but this little plot bunny has been nibbling and I had to free it somehow. So here we go, a cute hurt/comfort Merritt/Daniel one shot. Enjoy!


End file.
